


i'm lovin' it (and you a lil' bit) ; lumark

by lumarkology



Category: NCT (Band), SuperM (Korea Band)
Genre: Awkward Romance, Bottom Mark Lee (NCT), Boys In Love, Chinese Character, Cute, Cute Ending, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Funny, Happy Ending, Love at First Sight, M/M, McDonald's, Problems, Protectiveness, Romantic Comedy, Sweet, Top Wong Yuk Hei | Lucas, Trainee, Wong Yuk Hei | Lucas is Whipped, lumark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-12
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-19 07:02:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29995671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lumarkology/pseuds/lumarkology
Summary: To somehow get his life together, first-year college student Wong Yukhei works part-time at McDonalds. Covering a morning shift for a coworker, he falls head over heels for the only customer to arrive at 6:30 am and tries (but sometimes fails) to handle the situation with optimism and composure.- a pretty long and very fluffy lumark oneshot. enjoy!
Relationships: Liu Yang Yang/Qian Kun, Mark Lee/Wong Yuk Hei | Lucas
Comments: 6
Kudos: 36





	i'm lovin' it (and you a lil' bit) ; lumark

**Author's Note:**

> i've wanted to post this story on ao3 for a g e s ...
> 
> you can find it on my wattpad account as well!  
> wattpad acc: @ahoeforMinhoe
> 
> happy reading!

❝ _Things will go wrong in any given situation if you give them a chance._ ❞

Edward A. Murphy, Jr.

  
  


  
  
Wong Yukhei's day started with a bang. Literally.

First, he overslept and woke up fifteen minutes after he was supposed to leave for work, banging his head against the bed-frame. Then, while chasing the bus, he ran at the polished, and therefore invisible, glass door of a beauty salon. (That was a loud bang, indeed.) Finally, as he entered his oh-so-beloved workplace at exactly 6:15 a.m, Yukhei's first experience was his forehead's colliding with the doorframe.

Not that for the six months he had been working at McDonalds he hadn't learned to bend down every time he walked in or out, but at that unearthly hour only curses directed at the genius designer who had totally excluded the possibility of someone taller than 5'8 feet entering this fast-food place flooded his throbbing head. 

And was it an unearthly hour! Yukhei's usual shift started at 5 p.m, so he couldn't even picture how someone dragged himself out of bed for a 6 a.m one. However, when his boss called yesterday, all in distress, and asked him to cover the shift (with the promise of extra payment, of course), Yukhei jumped at the opportunity – money was a temptation his miserable financial situation didn't allow him to resist.

Despite of living in probably the cheapest room in whole Seoul, he hadn't payed his rent for three months already. The landlord was letting this slip for now simply because he was traveling abroad. When he sent a cheerful email announcing his imminent return, however, his most favorite tenant realized the end of his carefree lodging was subtly and mercilessly approaching.

Nevertheless, at this exact moment Yukhei was deeply regretting all his decisions and especially the decision to come. Even the dread of getting up at half past five hadn't stopped him from playing _League of Legends_ till four last night, and this was more than visible on his zombie-like expression, which only with great exaggeration could be called presentable to society. Furthermore, his hopes that his today's coworker would be late shattered at the entrance together with his forehead: his colleague was already sitting behind the counter, reading a book with an I-always-arrive-five-minutes-earlier-and-am-highly-proud-of-it expression. He belonged precisely to the type of guys Yukhei feared and mistrusted – those who willingly got up at 5 a.m every morning.

The groan the boy uttered upon running his head against the doorframe caught the aforementioned coworker's attention, and he gave him such a stern look of reproach from behind his round glasses that a shiver went through Yukhei's whole body. After having heard a myriad of terrifying legends about his college friends' intolerable colleagues, who specialized in ruining everybody's day, and after the shattering start of his own day, Yukhei (understandably) preferred not to deal with such a colleague.

That's why he walked towards the counter very, very cautiously, tripping over only three tables, still painfully aware of the stony gaze directed at him. From a closer distance, however, he noticed, with surprise, that the reproach in the other's eyes, which Yukhei's traumatized morning imagination had pictured so vividly, suddenly turned into simple curiosity, and the furrowed eyebrows began indicating not indignation, but a peculiar struggle to see that is commonly assigned to poor eyesight. Yet, Yukhei decided it was better to be safe than sorry.

"Listen, I'm really sorry," started he before his coworker had a chance to open his mouth. "I know it's annoying to clean the tables alone. I will make it up–"

"It's okay."

Yukhei blinked.

"Pardon?"

The guy laughed, showing a pair of dimples.

"I said it's okay. Johnny's usually an hour late. Plus, the last shift from yesterday had cleaned everything, so I didn't have to do anything."

Yukhei grinned. He had heard _it_. Yes, he had definitely heard that amazing, unmistakable Chinese accent, so horrible to the locals' ears. An enormous wave of nostalgia washed over him.

"Man, I'm Yukhei," blurted he out in Mandarin, stretching his hand for a handshake.

A flash of surprise flicked through the other's eyes, soon followed by one of satisfaction.

"I am Kun, then," replied he in articulate Mandarin, "and if i have to be honest, I woke up this morning with a tiny hope that my new coworker would be Chinese. Funny, right?"

"Tell me, bro! I think I've forgotten how Chinese sounds."

They both laughed, shaking hands like old friends.

Kun talked a lot about everything – from his family in China to his life in Korea. He was two years older than Yukhei, two feet shorter (figuratively), and exactly as proudly poor. With his handsome, gentlemanly face he only needed a suit to look like any pious oldest son of a big corporation's CEO, who would in future take over his father's business and be the pride of his whole kin. That's why Yukhei was more than surprised to hear he majored in Russian History and despised Economics, a reason to respect him even more.

Not that all that background information mattered at all. The important thing about Kun was that he – just like Yukhei – was a lost Chinese soul, withered by the tough life of an international college student. His sympathetic "I get that, man" was like music to the younger boy's ears, a rarity in a country where no one "got that". Disillusioned after only two weeks in Korea, Yukhei had long ago realized the struggle to make ends meet on his own, with only a basic knowledge of the local language and without any financial aid, comprised the major part of his daily grind, while the parties and other pleasures of college life rarely fitted in.

"Are there any customers at such an hour at all?" asked Yukhei as the both Chinese got tired of telling their tales of woe and busied themselves with their respective activities. Kun had opened another historical volume thick enough to crack heads if wielded skillfully, while Yukhei the Productive was picking ridiculous outfits for models – a game that his little cousin had downloaded on his phone during his last visit to Hong Kong and that he never bothered to delete. It was a far better pastime than social networks anyways because they, in Yukhei's case at least, mostly contained questionable group chats he was mysteriously added to.

Once, for example, he woke in the middle of the night from a thunder of Messenger notifications to find himself in a group with a hundred stressed Chinese moms, frantically texting about their new-born "darlings". "MY ANGEL JUST PUKED ON HIS FATHER FOR THE FIRST TIME." _How adorable..._

Or the notorious birthday-surprise group chats. They were Yukhei's favorites. Yeah, at the first notification about the approaching birthday of Yang Xi, whom he hadn't seen since middle school and of whom he had a single memory (She smashed a palette on his face during Art class and he walked around school painted like a Comanche on the path of war afterwards.), he was already rushing to buy a plane ticket to China. _Sure._

"There are some regular early birds," answered Kun non-commitedly, without lifting his gaze from the book. "You'll see."

Yukhei mumbled an even more non-commited "mhm" in response and again focused on the unsolvable dilemma "Which shoes would look the funniest on that blondie?". After a minute of hard thinking, he mentally added "call your cousin and ask" on his to-do list, which of course was non-existent.

Exactly at 6:30 a.m, the front door opened with a soft click. Yukhei reluctantly tore his gaze from the game, glanced at the entrance and— dropped his phone on the floor.

The most attractive human being he had ever seen in his life was standing there, aimlessly fiddling with the hanging end of his blue bandana and yawning as if his arrival meant nothing!

If someone had told Yukhei that falling in love at first sight was nonsense, at this moment he would have totally agreed. It didn't feel like _falling_ at all. It felt as if a lightning had struck him on the spot; it felt as if an elephant had stepped on his toe. It felt like a bucket of icy water poured on his head in winter. It felt as of he was hit... in the face _... by a tsunami_. It was so overwhelming that his breath hitched for at least half a minute. Meanwhile the boy, probably hesitating whether to leave the door open, turned his fine head now at Yukhei, now at the door handle, looking like a sleepy, confused angel.

Everyone – sooner or later in life – has those specific encounters that turn his whole existence upside down, driving him beyond the point of return. At 6:30 in the morning Yukhei definitely wasn't prepared for such a life-changing event, so he jumped from his chair like thunderstruck, eyes frantically searching for Kun. But his newfound Chinese bro had disappeared exactly when he was needed the most.

Despite the urge to crawl under the counter and hide there forever, he had no choice but to muster all his courage and face the boy, who was already standing on the other side, a questioning look on his too-cute-for-his-own-good face. As there gazes locked, Yukhei felt disrespected and attacked. How was it humanly possible for someone that attractive to be even more attractive up close? It was simply unfair. Such people should be held accountable by the government.

Blissfully unaware of his guilt, the boy offered a small, expectant smile, which, however, elicited only a very wide and foolish grin from the Chinese. He loved how the bandana did nothing to stop the boy's soft-looking, curly hair form falling on his forehead; how the purple circles of tiredness, which gave everybody the look of the walking dead, made his expression dreamy; how he was exactly as short as he seemed from afar. Well, he wasn't _that_ short, but still the prefect height for Yukhei to want to protect him. His tiny frame reminded him of that particular type of customers who came to McDonalds to gain on weight and ordered the whole menu for the purpose, and Yukhei was more than glad. He didn't care how much his budget would suffer. He wanted to treat this angel a dozen BigMacs.

"Hi," said the boy finally, probably tired of waiting.

"Hello, sweetie," slipped from Yukhei's tongue before he could restrain himself, and he was immediately ready to crawl under the counter.

However, to his enormous relief, the adorable angel neither cringed, nor commented anything homophobic; he simply ran his hand through his black curls with a single nervous motion and half-smiled, half-laughed, scrunching his nose.

If there was possible for Yukhei to fall deeper, he just did.

"A cup of coffee, please," asked the boy, avoiding Yukhei's eyes.

The Chinese raised a brow in surprise, and snatched a paper cup from the stall behind him.

"Only coffee? From McDonalds? Your will is one of a kind, sweetie. I could never resist ordering something unhealthy. You sure you don't want a muffin? My treat."

The boy only laughed, slightly shaking his head as a sign of refusal.

Yukhei could swear he had never prepared coffee more slowly, but that was the least he would have done to strike a longer conversation. Key word: would. As he moved back and forth like in a slow-motion video, he came to the happy realization he couldn't, _physically wasn't able to_ , say anything.

The Korean language had been, was, and would inevitably be an insurmountable obstacle for Yukhei, so he accepted the fact that he suddenly forgot every single word of it relatively calmly. When he found out his motherly Chinese had also vanished from his memory, though, Yukhei knew things were getting rough.

They got even rougher when he spilled a considerable amount of coffee on his hand and water- _not_ -proof watch. But although this hurt more than the tortures of the Inquisition, his first and foremost care was to find out how much of the whole scene his crush had witnessed.

Fortunately, the boy was sleepily staring at the menu on the wall, giving Yukhei time to recover, so when the Chinese passed him the cup of coffee, his blinding grin was again plastered on his face as if the pained, coffee-burnt expression had never wiped it off.

"Here you are."

The boy snapped out of his thoughts and after some nervous rummaging through his pockets handed Yukhei a banknote. Yukhei gently pushed his small hand away.

"It's on me."

The boy blinked in confusion.

"Oh... Why?"

Since nothing in Yukhei's life was going the smooth way anyways, there was absolutely no logical reason why love shouldn't be complicated too. So yes, of course, understandably, sure, his love would never utter a "thank you" or an "I can't accept it"; his love demanded to know _why_.

And "because" wasn't an acceptable answer, Yukhei thought while wondering what a lame lie to make up.

"I always pay for the first customer," blurted he out finally.

The boy raised his brows, surprised, and then smiled the sweetest smile in existence.

"Woah, that's really nice of you to make other people's days like that," stated he, grabbing his coffee, and walked away to a table in the farthest corner, leaving Yukhei to drop on the counter and stare at his back with a foolish grin.

_Don't leave._

"What are you gaping at?"

Of course, Kun the Betrayer had decided to reappear from the washroom in the most inappropriate moment, and he was nosy on top of that. Before Yukhei could avert his eyes, Kun had already traced his gaze – for someone with a bad eye-sight he did it remarkably fast.

"Ah, Markie! Good morning," exclaimed he as soon as he noticed the boy, who waved back with a tired but friendly smile and inquired about "Johnny-hyung".

While Kun assured the boy that no, his usual coworker wasn't ill and yes, he had passed his exams, Yukhei awkwardly stood there, his tall frame obstructing the talking guys' view of each other, and felt like an oak tree planted in a flower garden a.k.a completely out of place. But when wasn't he out of place with those 6 feet after all?

"You know him?" whispered he to Kun in Mandarin as soon as newly arrived customers interrupted Kun's pleasant chit-chat.

"Who? Mark?" yelled the Chinese bro so loudly the walls tremored.

Yukhei immediately clasped his big hand on Kun's mouth with enough force to break his front teeth and squinted in Mark's direction. Luckily, the boy seemed too absorbed in his musical world to pay attention even to a metal concert nearby.

From his remarkably well informed Chinese bro, Yukhei learnt that Mark had been coming almost every morning for months already (Yukhei mentally noted this) and had been always ordering only coffee.

"Idol thing, I guess. Diets and stuff," commented Kun.

Mark was a trainee, whose agency's dorms were somewhere in the vicinity, but he was the only idol to ever enter this McDonald's during Kun and Johnny's shift.

"How do you know so much about him?" exclaimed Yukhei, throwing his arms in the air to express his justified indignation and wonder. "He doesn't seem talkative."

"Yes, he is not talkative at all," confirmed Kun while handing two kids cups of McFlurry with a professional smile. "That was my longest conversation with him, I swear. It's just that Johnny is a pest and won't leave the poor boy alone with his questions."

  
The rest of the time Mark was at his table, swaying his legs back and forth and tapping to the rhythm of his music, turned to be a bigger mess for Yukhei than he had anticipated.  
In the long list of things he was bad at, multitasking was on top. Consequently, his efforts to stare at Mark and at the same time pay attention to the customers resulted in nothing but a colossal failure.

The first three clients accepted their wrong orders (almost) without complaint, but the snappish bald businessman, who had been barking at someone on his phone for the last ten minutes, happened to be Yukhei's undoing. He threw such a tantrum about receiving a Happy Meal, shrieking "Do I look like an elementary school kid to you!?" like an enraged banshee, that a whole crowd was summoned around the counter, and even Mark – to Yukhei's dismay – unplugged his earphones.

The Chinese had never felt so directly in the full glare of publicity. _Celebrity, man._

The granddad, meanwhile, continued shouting hysterically, demanding his order to be redone immediately and threatening to get both Yukhei and Kun fired. Yukhei really wanted to show him the finger, but the crowd, which primarily consisted of groggy businesspeople, pierced him with gazes so severe he thought they might lynch him.

"Apologize," whispered Kun the Voice of Wisdom, elbowing him quite persuasively straight in his ribcage.

The Chinese was about to grind out a very reluctant "sorry" when a sudden wave of motion went trough the crowd, and panting, tiny Mark squeezed through, emerging in front of the fuming businessman.

A shiver went trough Yukhei's spine. He realized that if that old devil hit Mark or even told him something rude, the Chinese would lose his temper and beat him up. And beating random people was very irrational – they might be the Prime Minister.

However, before he could yell at the boy to stop, Mark was already engaged in an animated discussion.

"...he wasn't concentrated because he was worried about me. We are friends, yeah, ugh... best friends," heard he Mark saying.

Yukhei briskly jumped over the counter and half-shielded Mark from the angry man, but the trainee unceremoniously pushed him aside and continued to debate, leaving him towering like an unwanted tree again.

"...thought he had offended me. Please, don't get him fired."

 _Whut?_ For such a nervous and shy sweetheart, Mark was a great liar.

"...don't you have grandchildren?"

And he knew how to hit on the others' soft spots: at the mention of grandchildren, the businessman's whole demeanor changed; he removed his glasses and started furiously wiping tears off his round face.

"Yes, yes, I dooo!" wailed he, this time like a wounded banshee. "But they are in Daeguuu and I see them so raaarely!"

Mark gave the old man a warm, sympathetic smile at the sight of which Yukhei's heart skipped a beat. No, it skipped five beats, and his anger vanished completely. He walked towards the crying man, whom Mark and a few bystanders were trying to console, and apologized with a ninety-degree bow.

The businessman attempted to scold him, but eventually melted, promised Mark to go visit his beloved grandchildren the following weekend, took – overcome by pathos – an enormous bite from his Happy-Meal cheeseburger, dramatically cleaned his nose with the sleeve of his snow-white shirt, and finally left.

The crowd, disappointed that a fight didn't occur, dispersed too, and soon only the two boys were standing awkwardly in front of the counter – Mark fiddling with the bandana again and Yukhei mustering all his self-control not to whisk him off his feet into a bear hug and thank him, and shower him with kisses.

"So..." muttered the trainee finally. "I gotta go. Thank you for the coffee, ugh..."

"Best friend?" suggested Yukhei, his blinding smile back on his face.

Mark giggled nervously, looking anywhere but at him, and nodded.

Here, according to the law of romantic movies, comes the episode when Yukhei should dramatically catch Mark's wrist, stare intensely into his eyes, and ask for his number. However, Yukhei's life was not a romantic movie, so any language he had ever been fluent in again vanished from his memory, and he simply continued towering over the counter, stiff like a Renaissance statue, while Mark gathered his things in the blink of an eye and left, waving awkwardly one more time.

Little did he know that for a certain Chinese guy things would never be the same.

"Hey, Kun!" yelled Yukhei at the top of his lungs as soon as the door closed after the trainee.

The whole restaurant turned to glare at him. Someone choked on his French fries. Kun squinted at him from behind his book.

"Mmm?"

Yukhei flung his toned arms in the air and smiled the widest grin in the world.

"I am in love."

The sun shined bright outside.

  
  


* * *

  
When the next morning Kun unlocked McDonald's at five minutes to six and dropped his books on the counter, eliciting a screeching, mournful groan from the plastic plot, he had prepared himself for the usual hour of scrubbing the tables alone and wondering when exactly Johnny would deign to show up.

What he hadn't prepared himself for was his Chinese bro to storm in ten minutes later, panting like an asthmatic horse.

Kun silently watched him jump around yelling "I'm almost not late!" for a minute before he finally deadpanned, "What the hell are you doing here?"

Not that he wasn't glad to see Yukhei again, but it was 6 a.m, he had a horrendous History exam on Friday, and he didn't remember Johnny telling him he had changed his shift.

Yukhei stopped jumping and gaped at Kun as the question hit him.  
What was he actually doing here, for God's sake? What was he doing in McDonalds at 6 in the morning after a sleepless night? Ah, yeah, he was madly in love with a certain customer.

But was it a night, though... The moment he got home Yukhei opened his laptop, wrapped himself in a blanket burrito on the coach, and spent the whole evening watching _Rookies,_ a show featuring trainees from Mark's agency and most importantly, Mark himself. Yes, Yukhei did something he had never thought was possible – he sacrificed a whole evening of _League of Legends_ – and this in his case was the equivalent of a marriage proposal. The things love does to us... _  
_ Then, out of the blue, his laptop broke down. Instead of going to bed (Who needs sleep?), Yukhei marched to the nearby Internet Cafè, where he continued his Mark-Lee-Is-The-Cutest-On-TV marathon until, around 3 in the morning, the worker there sympathetically inquired if he was homeless.

  
Yukhei shared nothing of the aforementioned with Kun, of course. He simply shrugged and tried to persuade his suspicious Chinese bro that no, he didn't cow Johnny into agreeing to switch their shifts and yes, miraculously, Johnny was the one to somehow find his number and offer, and that the boss was immediately OK with that. (Yukhei decided not to mention insignificant details such as the fact that it had actually taken him an hour of begging and six threats to quit to persuade the boss to be "OK with that.")

Still, Kun remained unconvinced and glanced at the entrance every now and then, expecting Johnny to barge in any moment and a terrible misunderstanding to occur.

"Seriously, man, stop staring at the door!" exclaimed Yukhei, losing patience. He hadn't just devoted all his meager morning energy to persuading Kun for nothing. "I didn't kidnap that Johnny guy, I swear. He said he just moved to another neighborhood, which is too far from here, and didn't feel like getting up at 4 a.m for work."

"Stop staring at the door yourself. Mark won't come before 6:30," retorted Kun, thus shutting Yukhei up for a good twenty minutes.  
  


When the door finally clicked, Yukhei almost jumped from his chair, but – to his major disappointment – instead of Mark, two very loud guys stormed in, laughing uproariously, and greeted Kun in very high-pitched Mandarin.

The first boy, although livelier and not withered by hard college life, resembled a perfect copy of Kun, so Yukhei wasn't surpised when he turned out to be Kun's younger brother, Chenle.

The second guy belonged to the type Yukhei was used to see on magazine covers but not in the local McDonalds: Doll-like features. _Check._ Eyeliner. _Check._ Tall and slender. _Check._ Designer clothes more expensive than Yukhei's organs would have been on the black market. _Check._ However, the Chinese wasn't at all impressed by his presence. Since a work of art like Mark Lee frequented this fast-food place, models could too.

"And that's ugh..." Kun shoot the magazine-cover guy a too-fond-to-be-platonic look, "YangYang."

The moment the two boys found out Yukhei was a native Chinese soul, YangYang engaged in such a din of Mandarin blabbering that Yukhei had to cover his ears not to turn completely deaf.

After loudly arguing with Chenle over greasy burgers V.S healthy home-made Chinese food and ultimately losing the debate, Kun – happy to get rid of the annoying youngster – returned to his books and did nothing to save Yukhei from the dozens of questions about his family they flooded him with, except for occasionally throwing glances full of admiration at YangYang. Thus, Yukhei found himself obliged to entertain the two while preparing their food on top of that. (Model-guy apparently ate like a pig.) When he told the story about Auntie Baozhai, who mistook him for a thief and attacked him with a broomstick when he came to visit her, Chenle and YangYang laughed so loudly straight into his ear, Yukhei saw stars.

As the two guys – loaded with burgers and French fries – finally bid him and Kun goodbye, his head was still spinning from their vociferous laughter. And of course, exactly because he was not ready at all, on their way out the two youngsters bumped into the one and only Mark Lee, who apologized sleepily and proceeded towards the counter.

After the hundred videos of the trainee Yukhei had watched that night, he had forgotten that Mark was tenfold – no, _hundredfold_ – more adorable in real life with his signature, this time yellow, bandana and oversized hoodie reaching almost to his knees.

"Hi... Yuk-hei," half-whispered he, a tired smile spreading on his face at Yukhei's playful "Hello, sweetie", and ordered only coffee again. His soft, unsure attempt to pronounce the challenging foreign name correctly was so perfectly sweet Yukhei couldn't help but grin like the lovestruck fool he was. 

  
While slowly preparing the cup, the Chinese studied Mark's unhealthily pale face with worry. The boy, so tiny compared to his enormous hoodie, looked as if he could barely stand on his feet from exhaustion. 

This time, as he passed the trainee his coffee, Yukhei didn't push away his small hand, which was trying to thrust him the money, but gently closed it in a fist with his fingers and kept it in his big palm for a moment.

"It's on me. And, please, choose something to eat."

"I am not the first customer today," pointed Mark out, ignoring the food offer, and mildly withdrew his hand from Yukhei's. "The two Chinese boys were."

 _Oops... A gaffe._ Yukhei awkwardly scratched his nape in defeat.

"Ok, let's say I enjoy doing it for you," confessed he finally with a smile.

Mark nodded slightly, grabbed his coffee, and retreated to his usual spot before the Chinese could see how fast crimson color bloomed on his unhealthy paleness.

Work went on even more catastrophic this time. His thoughts and attention completely occupied by Mark, Yukhei kept putting bacon in all vegetarian burgers and pouring caramel sauce instead of ketchup on the French fries until Kun cried out that it was impossible to work like this, that Yukhei was shaming McDonald's personnel all over the world, and that he would soon scare away all their customers.

"May I go talk to Mark then?" pleaded Yukhei, making puppy eyes at the older. He had been thinking about dropping at Mark's table and forcefully treating that emaciated angel some sweets the whole time.

His understanding Chinese bro scoffed and made a dismissive gesture.

"Yeah, go ahead, Romeo, before someone has beaten us both for your culinary masterpieces."

"'Romeo', huh? Says the one who turned ketchup color when that YangYang kid said 'Hi'," teased Yukhei back, already happily filling a whole tray with muffins and cookies.

Kun, for his part, shoved the baking tin into the microwave with thrice the necessary force, blushed furiously, and murmured a hundred unconvincing denials.

As he took the seat opposite Mark, Yukhei mentally delievered a collective prey to all gods in the history of religions to help him not do anything embarrassing.

"So..." mumbled he when the boy removed his earphones, "I never had the chance to thank you for yesterday."

Mark laughed.

"I felt bad that you got scolded for staring at me."

For a moment Yukhei saw a mischievous glint in his dark eyes, but before he could react, it disappeared and Mark added, "And the poor man looked inwardly soft but simply stressed. I knew he would melt when I mention grandchildren."

 _You made him inwardly soft_ , thought Yukhei and smiled widely in return, pushing the tray of sweets closer to the boy. Mark, however, recoiled from it.

"Hey, why are you staring as if I served you carrots and broccoli?" joked the Chinese, perplexed by his weird reaction.

"I can't eat sweets," explained the trainee after a moment of hesitation. "I'm on a diet."

Yukhei's eyes widened in disbelief.

"But you are..." exclaimed he but stopped midsentence, rummaging his brain for the proper word. _How do you describe someone who is too tiny to be called "tiny"?_

"Skinny," finished Mark for him, "I know. Everybody says so. But the truth is that I don't eat, _so_ I am slim, not _although_ I am slim."

He smiled weakly, gently pushing the tray away from himself, and stood up to throw his cup in the bin only to stagger and fall back in his seat.

"Are you always this tired?" asked Yukhei, studying Mark's face with worry.

Although the boy tried to brush those signs of exhaustion off as clumsiness, he wasn't buying it.

"I'm not tired," denied Mark for the third time with a nervous laugh, but two yawns gave him away.

Yukhei wasn't sure if his prayers were heard or a miracle had happened, but a sudden wave of confidence surged inside him, and he knew exactly what he should do and how to do it without looking ridiculous.

Resolved, he stood up and moved his chair closer to Mark, flashing him a wide, encouraging grin.

"Rest your head on my shoulder and sleep."

And to his surprise it didn't sound strained or lame. It rolled off his tongue naturally, giving away only a small but nevertheless important bit of his genuine concern.

Mark gave him a very flustered look and meekly attempted to refuse, insisting – through occasional yawns – that he is absolutely fresh and ready for the long day of practicing.

"Sure, sure," agreed the Chinese jokingly, guiding the boy towards his shoulder until Mark finally gave up and nuzzled his light head in the crook of the Chinese's neck.

"What am I doing with my life?" murmured he, causing Yukhei to chuckle. He found Mark's occasional glimpses of humor as endearing as everything else about him.

Before he could assure the trainee he would wake him at half past seven exactly as he had asked, Mark was already dead asleep on his shoulder.

Yukhei had never been more careful not to move a single muscle of his body.

  
  


* * *

  
And nothing embarrassing had happened, noted Yukhei to himself as he was waiting for Mark to show up and rethinking the previous day's events. The only thing he regretted was that he had again failed to get the trainee's number.

Well, he was planning to ask for it, but then that kid from the next table just had to step on his chair and yell, "I am the Ham Ninja!" at the top of his lungs to the enormous pleasure of his whole gang, thus waking Mark. And Mark just had to freak out that it was already 7:29 and rush out of the restaurant at a pace Usain Bolt would have envied. Yukhei was about to chase after him, but Kun just had to shoot him that murderous glance, which was eloquently saying, "Either you help me with that long line of customers or our friendship is over."

At this moment, while scrubbing the last table, Yukhei wished he had shown his Chinese bro the finger because it was already 6:45 a.m and Mark, who seemed to be very punctual about his 6:30-a.m visits, still hadn't arrived.

"Bro, are you listening to me at all?" snapped Kun, whose complaints about the History exam he had been ignoring already half an hour.

"No, man," confessed Yukhei with a sigh.

He felt bad, but saw no point in lying to his Chinese bro. The two had got like a house on fire and Kun was by far the most understanding friend he had in Korea (if not in general).

Kun simply nodded and continued cleaning the chairs in silence.

It was drizzling outside and the both guys were heavily under the weather. Yukhei had spent another sleepless night munching chips and devising various theories about his crush's unhealthy eating and sleeping habits.

Mark entered at ten minutes to seven, wet from head to toes. The hanging end of his soaked black bandana was sticking to his cheek, and the purple circles of exhaustion under his eyes were more conspicuous than ever.

Yukhei's heart started dancing violent aboriginal dances in his chest like any time he saw Mark, but soon sank. The trainee barely mumbled a "Hello", avoiding the Chinese's eyes, and took the free coffee and muffin without any questions or protests – a clear sign that something was wrong.

After watching Mark sit for five minutes straight staring blankly at his cup without drinking or plugging in his earphones, Yukhei decided he'd got enough of this nonsense. Just a day after he had finally managed to elicit more than three words in a row from the trainee, Mark was suddenly distanced from him like a Pacific atoll from the rest of the world! 

Yukhei wasn't going to put up with that.

He jumped over the counter, ignoring Kun's judging gaze, and proceeded towards the boy's table. However, as he plopped in the seat next to Mark and bent closer to study his face, his annoyance vanished in the span of a second, giving place to deep worry.

Leaning his forehead on his small palm, Mark was softly crying, tears rolling down his pale cheeks and dripping into the coffee.

"Shhh, baby, what's wrong?" asked Yukhei, worried beyond description, and took Mark's small hands in his, caressing them comfortingly with his thumb.

Mark shook his head as if trying to shake off the stream of tears, but didn't reply. Yukhei hastily fished some napkins out of his pocket and started wiping his tears away.

"Tell me what's wrong," asked he softly, bending closer towards the tiny boy as if to protect him from the rest of the world.

Mark finally lifted his wet face to look at Yukhei, whose big puppy eyes looked so trustworthy and loving that Mark's lips somehow started forming words on their own.

He told the Chinese that he was debuting next month as a new member of a world-known band, which boasted an infinite amount of members and a lot of units within the group. (Yukhei's head started spinning – he never got how the Korean pop industry worked. Nevertheless, he listened attentively because it was Mark who was speaking, and if it was Mark, he would have gladly listened even about funds, stocks, and the next world economic crisis.) The trainee said he didn't feel good enough for this group; that he was doing everything possible, and yet, the current members all seemed tenfold better than he was; that the managers were right to be demanding, but he sometimes felt so exhausted he dreamed about sufficient sleep _while sleeping_.

"I know it's childish to whine, but I am so worried I will fail," confessed he finally, fixing his gaze on his hands, which were still in Yukhei's.

"Mark, look at me," ordered the Chinese with the most serious facial expression Mark had ever witnessed. "I've watched _Rookies_. You are amazing and... overall perfect for stage. Your agency is the luckiest to have you. Don't dig yourself an early grave. Your health is the most important thing."

Mark attempted to hide his shy smile at this earnest confession by shaking his head.

"Idols don't need health."

That sentence did it: Yukhei started a _serious_ conversation. And when Yukhei talked seriously even the gods shut their mouths.

He didn't let Mark put in a word for fifteen minutes straight, passionately explaining why he should eat and sleep, and be healthy, until the trainee gaped in defeat, impressed by that almost scientific monologue, and agreed – to Yukhei's enormous relief – to eat half of the muffin if the Chinese ate the other half.

Suddenly, on that cloudy day, the sun was shining bright again.

"Do you want someone's autograph?" asked Mark out of the blue while licking Nutella of his fingers, surprisingly being the first one to speak.

Yukhei laughed.

"Why are you asking that?"

"Because usually people are shy to ask me first," explained the trainee with a shrug. "Johnny-hyung wanted Ten's autograph, but only dared to ask me last week. And we've known each other for three months."

Yukhei rummaged his brain, trying to remember who Ten, whose name Mark pronounced with proud emphasis, was. _Agh, yeah, the cool Thai singer with the insane choreographies._

"I want yours," answered he simply, "since you will be an international superstar soon anyways."

Mark laughed and grabbed his backpack to fish out a marker. Yukhei rolled up the sleeve of his shirt, revealing a very toned arm at the sight of which Mark slightly blushed.  
Lowing his head in a bad – but endearing – attempt to hide his flushed cheeks, the trainee leaned forward, hastily signed the smooth, tanned skin, and recoiled immediately to admire his creation from afar. The signature resembled rather a four-year old's handwriting than an autograph, but who would dare to complain? Definitely not Yukhei – he was on cloud nine.

"Don't wash it off. When I become an 'international superstar', cut off your arm and sell it. You'll earn a lot of money," suggested Mark with a very serious expression, but bursted out giggling a second later.

Yukhei didn't know how to react to this bizarre sense of humor, but eventually pronounced it cute and chuckled too.

According to the law of Murphy, the drizzle turned into a whole flood the moment Mark had to leave.

"My hoodie is wet anyways. It won't make any difference," deadpanned the trainee philosophically, observing through the glass wall how the by-passers hastily opened their umbrellas, but Yukhei begged to differ.

"I will walk you to your dorm," announced he resolutely, deaf to any protests, and stood up to throw Mark's cup in the bin.

An embarrassing situation hadn't occurred in Yukhei's life already a whole day (a record!). Apparently, according to Fate, that was too long of a timespan and the Chinese didn't deserve it, so the cruel reality slapped him in the face again.

Engaged in their conversation, Mark had forgotten to finish up his coffee, and as Yukhei lifted the half-full cup more negligently than he should have, tilting it, its contents ended on the back of the young woman occupying the table behind the two boys. The poor lady yelped, jumping off her seat, and turned to face Yukhei, her otherwise attractive face distorted by a flabbergasted expression.

The Chinese could swear he had never witnessed a more intense eye-contact in his whole life. He was giving the woman a very distressed look (picturing the previous day's businessman scene repeating itself); she was staring back as if she'd seen a ghost (Yukhei couldn't blame her. Hot coffee splashed on his clothes was not the start of the day he dreamt of either.), while Mark was staring now at him, now at her, his eyes full of universal regret.

That game of who-would-dare-to-blink-first continued for at least a minute. The whole time the Chinese was wondering whose eyes would start shooting lasers.

Mark was the first to give up and start furiously apologizing to the lady. However, Yukhei reacted more promptly that time, determined to show Mark he is a real man who could handle the situation and not just stand like a tree while his tiny – and completely innocent – love apologized for the mess he had created.

"What are you apologizing for?" snapped (in the softest way possible) the Chinese at Mark, pushing him aside very, very gently. "It's was all my fault."

"It was my coffee," replied Mark, rather surprised. Were they seriously arguing over an apology _?_

"But I spilled it!" exclaimed Yukhei.

Mark folded his arms and narrowed his eyes at him. It looked so cute Yukhei got distracted, giving the trainee a chance to stubbornly repeat, "But it was mine."

The Chinese sighed deeply. This boy was unbelievable.

"Mark... If someone took your car and ran over a pedestrian with it, who would go to jail – he or you!?"

"Both because I should have not given him the car," insisted the trainee.

Yukhei threw his arms in the air, not sure anymore whether to laugh or cry. Mark's logic reached depths he didn't dare to plunge into.

Meanwhile, the lady, who had – with Kun's help – quietly cleaned herself and the floor, was observing the two arguing guys with an amused expression. Upon hearing Mark's final reply, she bursted out laughing, slapping her knees in a very unladylike manner.

The both boys had traded the debate for a game of staring, which in fact was 90% Yukhei ogling at Mark and 10% Mark stubbornly glaring back. They had also completely forgotten about the original reason for their argument.

Startled by the lady's laugh, they snapped their heads in her direction, expressions so dumbfounded she went into another fit of giggles.

"Guys, you are...hahaha...honestly...so adorable," yelled she through occasional laughs.

"I'm not mad. Happens to the best," added she as soon as her fit body stopped shaking from laughter. "That's my sportswear anyways. I always change my clothes at the office."

She tossed her violent orange locks back and gave them a friendly smile. Mark and Yukhei shared a puzzled look.

"Aha... Thanks for not threatening to get me fired then," murmured Yukhei with a relieved grin, sending the lady into another fit of uncotrolable laughter.

As soon as the Chinese dashed off to grab his jacket, she smiled at Mark, who continued standing like frozen in front of her, processing the fact that a (very hot) guy was about to walk him home.

"He-ey."

The young woman waved her delicate hand in front of his face to catch his attention. The myriad of silver bracelets on her arm tinkled.

"I might or might not have eavesdropped a little on your conversation... Don't blame me! You two were too cute!!! ...but your friend is all over you, honestly, and he is the hottest guy I've ever seen in _ages_. And this means something 'cause I work for a big modeling agency."

Mark could sense his cheeks inflame.

"You get what I mean," whispered she and discreetly turned away to search for something she didn't need in her designer bag just before Yukhei reappeared within hearing distance.

  
As the two boys were exiting the restaurant, and Mark glanced at her for the last time, the orange-haired lady sent him a conspiring wink, leaving him with enough thoughts to overthink.

  
The moment they were out in the rain, Yukhei carefully wrapped his jacket around Mark's shoulders.

"But it's raining cats and dogs, Yukhei," exclaimed the trainee in protest. "And you are wearing only a shirt."

Yukhei grinned, and put on his sunglasses.

"Really? I think the weather's amazing."

The Chinese knew he looked absolutely ridiculous standing in the middle of a puddle with a soaked shirt and sunglasses. The feeling of big, cold drops sliding down his spine wasn't pleasant too, but that was the least he was ready to do to make Mark not feel guilty for using his jacket. 

A few by-passers turned to scrutinize him from behind their umbrellas.

"He looks like a wet giraffe," shouted someone, causing the Chinese to laugh nervously. That guy's comment was probably flattering.

Mark shook his head and murmured, "You are so weird." before starting in the direction of his dorm.

Yukhei accepted his remark with a deep sigh. Getting used to his love's special ways of saying "thank you" required time and patience.

Just when he was about to follow Mark, a very high-pitched voice shouted his name, and he saw Kun's little brother running in their direction dragging an enormous dog after himself.

The boy stopped in front of Yukhei, or more precisely tried to stop – the dog decided it was just the right time to accelerate and dragged him a few meters farther before suddenly stopping short.

"Guys..." breathed Chenle out, catching his knees and panting as if he had run a marathon.

Mark and Yukhei gave him quizzical looks, which, in fact, were more intended towards the beast with him.

Because was it a dog! If it had emerged from some dark corner at night, it could have been easily mistaken for the Devil himself. It's fur was black like sooth and bristly; its left ear was lopped, while the right sticked up like a horn; it was enormous (According to Yukhei's estimations, risen on his hind legs, it would be as tall as him.). Its mouth seemed to be permanently open, exposing a line of sharp teeth and a very long, pink tongue, which splashed saliva in all directions.

"It's adorable!" remarked Mark, bending down to pat it.

At this small gesture, the beast was overcome by such a wave of excitement, it splashed a whole cataract of saliva, uttering the most sinister sound Yukhei's ears had ever endured.

Upon hearing Mark's compliment, Chenle beamed whole, and Yukhei had a feeling his love had just made a horrible mistake.

"Really??" exclaimed Kun's brother. "That's great because I was just about to ask you to take Brad Pitt for a walk while I talk to my hyung."

The rain stopped.

"Take _who_ for a walk?" muttered Mark glancing now at the dog, now at Chenle with a priceless expression.

Chenle remained completely unfazed, and pointed proudly at the mongrel.

"Brad. Pitt."

Yukhei almost fell into a puddle from the violent fit of laughter that overcame him.

Watching Mark diligently twine the leash around his wrist, Yukhei was still unconvinced it was a good idea to agree. He was glad to help Chenle, whom Kun would under no circumstances let in with Brad Pitt, of course. What worried him, though, was that Mark insisted on walking the dog himself, and – come on – Brad Pitt was we big enough to walk Mark instead. Yes, he was currently sitting on the ground, meek as a lamb, but there was something peculiarly untrustworthy in his yellow eyes, which the Chinese couldn't overlook despite all Mark's reassurances.

Murphy has once wisely said (and life experience has multiple times confirmed) that if something can go wrong, it inevitably _will_ go wrong.

Just when Yukhei relaxed the tiniest bit, Brad Pitt's demeanor changed cardinally: he jumped to his feet, all bristly, his devilishly glowing eyes fixed on something down the street. The both boys followed his gaze with dread only to spot a big, orange cat sitting on the asphalt a good twenty meters further. Their breaths hitched.

Brad Pitt stared. The cat stared back, and a mutual agreement flashed between the two animals – it would be a game of life and death.

Before Yukhei could react in any way, the mongrel made a powerful jerk forward and, with a sinister growl, dashed off in the cat's direction, effortlessly dragging Mark after himself. The boy yelped and dug his soles into the concrete, but to no avail – Brad Pitt had obviously heard the call of the wild, transforming in the blink of an eye into a ferocious predator, intoxicated by the fever of a whole hunting wolf pack. Mark had no choice but to let his legs sprint.

"Mark, let go of the leash!" yelled Yukhei, starting after them. It was a game of life and death, indeed, and the one in a potential danger of dying was Mark.

"I can't..." shouted the trainee, already breathless from the overwhelming pace. "I can't untie the leash from around my wrist–"

Yukhei braced all his strength to run faster, and soon caught up with Brad Pitt. (For once, he thanked God he was on the university's athletic team.) He reached out to grab Mark's shoulder, but exactly when he clutched the jacket, Brad Pitt made an abrupt turn to the left, following the cat's zig-zag motions. The fabric ripped, and the Chinese was left with a piece of his own clothing, while the trainee was mercilessly dragged further down the street.

Not one to give up easily, especially when his love's life was at stake, Yukhei considered it was the wrong time to mourn his single presentable jacket, dropped the cloth and set off after Brad Pitt again.

Mark, meanwhile, had given up any resistance, concentrating all his dexterity on untying the leash. Near the next crossroads, just before Brad Pitt was about to jump out on the road and get them both run over by a car, the boy finally succeeded to get rid of the leash and plopped down on the ground, breathing heavily. The mongrel disappeared around the corner.

"Mark, are you okay?" shouted Yukhei, running to him, and helped him get back on his feet.

The trainee stared blankly at his wrist.

"We lost Brad Pitt."

Yukhei did everything possible to persuade Mark not to worry, but he had to admit he himself was not convinced the mongrel would return to Chenle. Was it any other – normal – dog, the Chinese would have simply let it be. However, this was Brad Pitt, who was as far from not being problematic as Yukhei was from being a millionaire.

"Wait here," said he finally to Mark and marched to the middle of the street, followed by the boy's worried gaze. He took a deep breath, clearing his throat, and shouted, "BRAD PITT" at the top of his lungs.

A colossal mistake.

Upon hearing his cry, every by-passer within a couple of kilometers stopped short and started frantically looking around himself.

"Brad Pitt!? Where??" sounded hushed but excited voices from all directions. Even the traffic stopped and some of the drivers climbed out of their cars.

"Hey, where did they all see Brad Pitt? I'm a fan!" asked a guy, tapping Mark on the shoulder.

Just when the trainee opened his mouth to explain, an enormous, unidentifiable black creature loomed on the horizon.

Mark saw Yukhei's face stretch in a wide, happy (and charming) grin.

"Look, Markie!" yelled he, pointing a finger in the creature's direction. "That's Brad Pitt!"

Together with Yukhei, the whole crowd snapped their heads to look at Brad Pitt, who had apparently failed to catch his prey, and, to compensate for the loss, had properly wallowed himself in at least two muddy puddles. Mark wasn't sure what exactly the mongrel reminded him of – probably the Loch Ness monster – but Mark was pretty sure he wanted the ground to swallow him whole. He wondered when exactly things went wrong – the dog seemed such a sweetheart at first.

Brad Pitt, for his part, was apparently not very eager to lose his freedom because the moment he caught sight of the two boys, he made a 180-degree turn.

"Mark, he is escaping again! Let's go!" yelled Yukhei and tore into chasing the mongrel.

Mark gave the gaping fan of the real Brad Pitt an apologetic glance and dashed after Yukhei, whose long legs had already gained him a considerable precedence.

  
At the first crossroads the Chinese stopped short. A car whizzed by. Brad Pitt was nowhere to be seen.

Mark arrived a minute later, panting like a 60-year-old chainsmoker on a marathon. Yukhei caught his small waist carefully to support him, and the trainee hang down on his strong arm, completely exhausted.

"Look... for... muddy... traces," muttered he through heavy breaths, eliciting a surprised glance from Yukhei. How was he thinking so logically in such an action-packed situation?

Mark's advice was good, but everything is easier said than done. Brad Pitt seemed to have crossed every street in the neighborhood at least three times – there were muddy dog steps on every sidewalk, pointing in all possible directions.

Yukhei and Mark wandered north; Yukhei and Mark wandered south; they made 180-degree turns; they retreated their steps. Brad Pitt had vanished into thin air.

The fact that Mark, worried about letting Chenle down, tripped at every third step of his didn't help Yukhei relax at all, but at least it inspired in him enough confidence to suggest he gave the boy a piggy-back ride.

Mark – because he was Mark – refused point blank and laughed awkwardly, hiding a blush. Yukhei, however, was a very persuasive nuisance when he wanted to be. As soon as the trainee got distracted by two birds chasing each other on the opposite side of the street, the Chinese creeped behind him; kneeling down, he grabbed his tiny legs and, swiftly getting his own head between them, fastened Mark on his back.

"Got ya!"

Mark yelped and tried to free himself, but gave up the moment the Chinese pretended to be falling backwards and clutched his toned shoulders for dear life.

"How does it feel to be a baby koala?" asked Yukhei jokingly, turning his head sideways to glance at the boy. Mark simply smiled nervously; the close proximity of their faces gained him a great view of the Chinese's profile, and his roguish handsomeness was more noticeable than ever.

As Yukhei continued walking down the street at a brisk pace, a comfortable silence settled between them – or rather a thoughtful one. Until he _kneeled_ down for Mark to climb on his back, the Chinese hadn't noticed how adorable their height difference actually was, and now this was making his heart flutter, and dance, and throb wildly. Feeling Mark's hands on his shoulders, he thought about how small they were; how he wanted to turn his head and plant a soft kiss on his knuckles.

Mark thought about Yukhei too. He pondered over the strange bond he had developed with this weird, flirty stranger, who bought him coffee and gave him health advices and piggy-back rides simply because he wanted to; who got him involved in embarrassing situations, but was so soft and caring it was impossible to be annoyed with him.

"Yukhei, where are you from?" broke he the silence finally. "Your accent is like Kun-hyung's."

A moment passed before Yukhei replied. That was the first personal question Mark had asked him, and it took him off guard.

"Hong Kong."

"Really? Cool!" exclaimed the trainee, stirring slightly, and brushed his sneaker's sole against Yukhei's white McDonald's uniform. "I've always wanted to visit China."

"I'll take you some time," remarked the Chinese casually. "if I ever save enough money for plane tickets. McDonalds doesn't pay a fortune, you know?"

Mark laughed and asked more. And the Chinese answered, and answered, and answered.

Mark knew Yukhei was a talkative person, but to that moment he hadn't realized how talkative he could really be. In what seemed to be a single moment, the trainee received enough information to write a biography – from family members (Mark felt as if he already knew them all in person) to childhood memories to tough college life, Yukhei's stories were endless, each next more entertaining than the previous one.

Yukhei, meanwhile, wanted to scream from joy, to tell the birds, the sky, and the whole world how happy he was, because Mark understood him perfectly.  
He wasn't a lost Chinese soul and he didn't repeat, "I get that, man.", interrupting the narrative, as did Kun; his support was silent, warm, expressed through laughter or some occasional sympathetic remark, and Yukhei felt he was falling even deeper and there was no turning back – Mark and he had a connection indescribable with simple words.

The trainee looked at the building in front of him with surprise. Somehow, the muddy traces had led them to his dorm, but he, absorbing every word that slipped from Yukhei's mouth, hadn't even noticed the familiar street.

"Actually that's my dor–"

Before he could end the sentence, a piercing, horrible, and oh-so-familiar howl sounded somewhere behind his back and Mark felt a pair of enormous, wet paws crash against his back with considerable force.

Yukhei was strong, indeed, but even the firmest constructions sometimes totter. Surprised by the sudden attack, he leaned forward, staggering like the tower of Pisa, and unable, due to the precious burden on his back, to maintain balance, toppled to the ground. Mark safely landed on top of him, knocking his nose in Yukhei's neck, while Brad Pitt comfortably sprawled his portly frame on the trainee's back, thus completing the intricate construction of entangled limbs and dirty fur.

"Brad Pitt..." groaned the Chinese, still breathless from the impact with the hard asphalt.

  
While the two boys were untangling Yukhei's jacket's buttons from Brad Pitt's wet, muddy fur, which proved to be a challenging task since the mongrel couldn't remain still for a second, the Chinese was trying to muster enough courage to finally ask the boy for his number. His mind simply couldn't comprehend how in college he – being considered one of "the hottest jocks" – won't hesitate a minute to get any student's number, but at the mere thought of doing the same with Mark the Korean language again said, "Bye, bye".

"Hey, Mark," muttered he finally. He just had to stop being a coward and say it, with or without Korean.

Mark finally untangled the last button.

"Yes?" asked he, clueless, and lifted his gaze to look at the Chinese, causing him to clutch his jeans pockets nervously.

"It was an eventful morning," blurted he out with a nervous grin. _Idiot._

Mark laughed.

"Indeed... I'm sorry for you jacket, by the way. I will buy you a new one."

"No, no, no!" yelled the Chinese, comfortingly patting the trainee on the shoulder. "Don't even mention it."

Mark wore it. The damage was more than worth it.

"Ok then...," murmured the trainee, suddenly finding his shoes a very engaging sight. "Thank you for walking me to the dorm, Yukhei. Sorry for the trouble with Brad Pitt. Hope you won't lose him again."

He glanced at Yukhei's wrist around which the leash was securely tied. The Chinese chuckled, affectionately running his hand through Brad Pitt's disgusting fur.

"Only over my dead body am I losing this troublemaker again! And, Mark... um... can I have your..."

Fate was against Wong Yukhei that day, and he could do nothing about it.

"MARK LEE!" yelled a voice with a tinge of pompous accent just before he could finally utter "number".

A pretty boy with messy pink hair and the type of purple circles under his eyes Mark constantly had (although not that obvious) approached the two, grabbing Mark's shoulders to examine him from head to toes.

"Jeez, you are alive!" exclaimed he afterwards with a dramatic facepalm.

Mark was about to reply something, but the boy pressed his slender finger to the other's lips with a single pretentious motion.

"I haven't finished talking yet," announced he, flipping his disheveled hair back, and started walking back and forth, throwing his hands in all directions. "Never had I expected to witness Mark Lee being late for dance practice! Choreographer-nim was so shocked, he tripped over a skipping rope and ran his head against the mirror!"

All color drained from Mark's face. With Yukhei and Brad Pitt, he had forgotten time existed, but apparently time hadn't forgotten about him – for the first time in his trainee life he was late for practice! The thought made him wince. Would they tell the managers? Would the agency kick him out? What would happen then?

The pink-haired guy stopped pacing and gave him a disapproving look as if reading his thoughts.

"Jeez... calm down, for God's sake! You are the most hardworking person in the whole industry. They simply sent me to check if you haven't died or something."

Yukhei noticed with relief that Mark's facial color slowly returned back to normal.

Meanwhile, the unfamiliar guy fixed his gaze on Brad Pitt, who was still sprawled on the ground, more dirty and unidentifiable than ever, and pointing a finger at him, asked, "What's _that_?"

"Brad Pitt," answered Yukhei with a wide grin.

The boy looked at him as if he was a lunatic, and the Chinese shut him mouth, offended, missing Mark's apologetic glance.

However, Brad Pitt wasn't a dog to take such an insult calmly. He was a mongrel of honor, ready to defend his dignity. (Or maybe he was just glad to meet another clueless human to mess with.)

In any case, he suddenly jumped to his feet and threw himself on the guy like an attacking lion, sending him to the ground.

Yukhei, taken aback by this sudden ferociousness, managed to drag him away only after the mongrel had done his damage. Brad Pitt, choking on the leash, gave him an indignant look, which was eloquently saying, "What for!? I just avenged your honor too, two-legged idiot!," but the Chinese only frowned at him. This unnecessary vengeance couldn't bring about another opportunity for getting Mark's number, unfortunately. (Had it been otherwise, he would have thrown himself on the unfamiliar guy together with Brad Pitt.)

The pink-haired drama-queen stared in disbelief at the two enormous muddy paw prints Brad Pitt has left on his brand-new hoodie, and collapsed on Mark only a moment after the boy had helped him back to his feet.

"Tell Jeno I'm dying!"

"Jaemin, you are not dying," exclaimed Mark in exasperation, struggling to keep his dramatic friend upright.

Standing there, his hand licked by Brad Pitt's wet tongue and his presence ignored by the love of his life, Yukhei thought that if anyone was dying, it was him.

  
  


* * *

  
  


The cup of coffee was dying too, abandoned on the counter.

At 6:30 a.m, when it was left there by Yukhei to wait for Mark, its coffee was fresh and hot, and aromatic. At 7 a.m it was already half-cold, worried. At 7:30 it had turned into an unpleasant, black mixture – dying, fading away, like Yukhei's hope.

No matter how often the Chinese glanced at the door, it never opened to let Mark in, and he knew that the day would be a nightmare. The morning – without the calming presence of the trainee swaying his cute, tiny legs back and forth in the rhythm of his music – was already a disaster.

He paced left and right, doing his job mechanically. In fact, "mechanically" wasn't even an appropriate term because machines at least work properly most of the time, and he didn't.

At first, Kun, who was watching him with concern, resorted to deeply comforting remarks such as "He is not dead, ya know?", but when Yukhei messed twenty orders one after another, burnt his hands at the microwave, put salt in his tea instead of sugar, and yelled at his little cousin on the phone for virtually nothing, the Chinese bro realized things were pretty damn serious.

Deaf to all protests, he kicked Yukhei out an hour before the end of their shift, announcing that the boy desperately needed rest. Yukhei, who wanted nothing but to lock himself in his room, was about to follow his caring Chinese bro's advice when duty, also known as "the strict coach", called – he had volleyball practice in two hours.

  
The moment he set foot in the sports hall Yukhei wondered what the point of coming was. Having forgotten to tie his shoelaces, he tripped, stepping on them, and fell on his teammate, who – since the team was jogging in a column – fell on the teammate in front of him, who fell on the next one, etc., etc., thus creating a spectacular domino effect, which encompassed the whole hall in a minute.

Then, the coach just had to enter exactly when Yukhei, suddenly remembering Mark's adorable smile, made a particularly imprecise service, and the volleyball just had to collide with the aforementioned coach's nose. It hurt to watch the innocent man groan, clutching his nose from which blood streamed like a river; what hurt even more, however, was to hear those gentle, supportive words: "What the devil, Wong Yukhei?? Are you in love or what!?"

If things had been falling apart so far, at the university they crumpled headlong into a precipice.

In the middle of the first lecture Yukhei was already on the edge of storming out. Mark haunted every single thought of his. He was the definitions of the technical terms; he was the result of every equation, the solution to all math problems. He was on each slide of the presentation about Biological Engineering Yukhei had once been looking forward to. _Once..._ Who cared about his college major when even 2 + 2 equaled Mark?

Only when he had to hand in an important paper to the Physics professor did the Chinese manage to put his thoughts together for a brief moment. As soon as he walked out of the auditorium, though, he came to the happy realization he had submitted the paper signing Mark's name on it instead of his own, and had to search the whole campus for the proffessor, whom everyone had seen, but nobody could find.

Things have the amazing quality of going wrong all at once, so the day's ordeal didn't end with education.

When – late in the evening because he missed the bus – Yukhei finally dragged himself to his place, on the staircase he was pleasantly surprised by a sinister apparition – his landlord – who not only demanded payment, but also announced the rent would be higher from next month.

Knowing the Chinese's state of mind, even the most obtuse person could have understood why his response to this announcement wasn't exactly cheerful and polite. The landlord, however, was ignorant and made the mistake to reprimand him, getting a sassy retort in return.

Long story short, the exchange of spiteful remarks led to insults, which led to a brawl (thus summoning the whole block on the staircase), which almost resulted in a fistfight, and only an hour later Yukhei found himself sitting on the sidewalk with all his belongings jammed into three backpacks. Evicted.

The Chinese was certain that soon he would strongly regret this, but since anger was still boiling inside him, all he felt was relief and even slight triumph. He had finally told that bloodsucker, who rented him a room the size of a cardboard box and nevertheless demanded an outrageous price for it, everything he had been holding back for so long. This wouldn't make the inevitable sleeping on a bench in the park any more comfortable, but the fact that he had left the battleground victorious somehow warmed Yukhei inside. Or maybe the night was warm in general... It was the middle of March after all, and the capricious weather, allied with the _in_ temperate climate of the region, was unstintingly serving both heavy rains and smothering heat.

The window above his head opened with a loud screech, and a small object, thrown from above, hit his back.

"Take this too, son of a bitch! I don't want any of your filthy things here!" shouted the landlord's raspy voice, followed by a slam so loud the glasses of all windows in the neighborhood tremored.

Yukhei reached out for the mysterious object only to discover it was the yellow Spongebob purse in which he kept a spare key from McDonalds. The boss had provided all employees from the first and last shifts with keys, but the Chinese had completely forgotten about its existence – Kun always arrived at work first anyways.

At this moment, however, as a brilliant idea occurred to Yukhei (He could almost see the light bulb appear above his head.), this small key became the epitome of his luck in life: no sleeping in the streets threatened him anymore ; McDonalds would put him up for the night (or for a few of them).

The previous day, as they were waiting for Yukhei's bus, Kun, apparently in a meek effort to direct the conversation away from the universal subject "Mark" for at least a second, had jokingly promised to treat him homemade Chinese food if he made it to work on time at least once.  
Yukhei chuckled, suddenly curious what face his Chinese bro would make upon seeing him behind the counter at five minutes to six. It certainly would be one worth seeing.

Yukhei gathered his belongings, briskly jumped to his feet and started for the bus stop only to espy the last bus whizzing down the road. " _Travel on foot – save the planet,"_ had been written on green posters all over the campus for weeks already. Yukhei inhaled deeply and braced himself for an environmentally friendly journey.

Nothing makes up for walking four miles with luggage like a pack of greasy potato chips, thought the Chinese as he strolled into a convenience store near McDonalds for some snacks to help him shorten the long night ahead.

After greeting the sleepy boy at the counter, who only nodded half-heartedly with gaze glued to his phone, he made a beeline towards the chips stall, whose position in any supermarket he had developed a special sense for. Since cooking was an art only the best of the best cold master (and Yukhei modestly didn't esteem himself chosen by God), chips and soda comprised a good seventy percent of his remarkably healthy daily diet, while the remaining thirty, allegedly dedicated to vegetables, were usually filled up with instant noodles from the university cafeteria.

To choose what chips his stomach craves the most was often the hardest part: they were all ranked in front of Yukhei like soldiers in colorful, shiny uniforms, full of a myriad of diverse preservatives and coloring agents – BBQ, Paprika, Sour Creme, Chili... My, my! The whole Periodic Table was there for him to pick from! _Yeah, Kun, talk about my lack of 'variegated nourishment' after that..._

  
The door of the store clicked, snapping Yukhei out of his trance, and he hastened to grab three random packs. From his current position the newly arrived couldn't be seen, but Yukhei suspected it was another late-night snacker craving for chips, and he didn't want to be a pest with his indecisiveness.

Just when he embarked on a search for Sprite, a strangely familiar voice softly asked for a bottle of water, making the Chinese stop short.

"It's you again!" snapped the cashier at the invisible someone. "You look dead! And, no, don't 'Donghyuck' me! Do you know it's fucking 1 a.m!?"

A bottle was banged on the counter with twice the necessary force. The cashier-guy seemed pretty riled up.

"Here, take your water and leave! I don't need your money! If you want to commit a slow suicide through exhaustion, go ahead! I wash my hands off you!"

Yukhei took several long strides knocking down a stall of bottles, which collapsed with a thunder loud enough for the whole neighborhood to awake, and emerged in front of the two startled guys only to confirm that the customer was the one and only Mark Lee.

The trainee was relying on the counter with one hand for support, his chest lifting abruptly from time to time as if every breath required special effort; his skin was paler than ever and shined with tiny droplets of sweat. To Yukhei, he looked more small and exhausted than ever.

"Mark, what are you doing here?"

As the two boys' gazes locked, the surprise in Mark's eyes gave place to relief brightened by a tiny flame of happiness. Yet, only a moment later his black orbs turned hazy. His lips opened slightly, trying to elicit a sound, but the landscape – as he was seeing it at least – suddenly started rotating, and he lost consciousness.

"Mark!" yelled Yukhei, hurling the packs of chips in all directions (including Donghyuck-guy's face), and caught the trainee just before the dirty floor would have affectionately kissed his pretty face.

The Chinese effortlessly picked him up bridal style with his toned arms, and gave the sulking cashier a deeply worried, questioning look.

"Don't give me those puppy eyes!" snapped Donghyuck-guy, folding his arms on his chest defensively. "It's all yours and your whole damned slaveholding agency's fault! If you all were a bit less of lukewarm snakes, you would have noticed he can barely move!"

It took all of Yukhei's persuading ability to convince the cashier he had nothing to do with Mark's agency, and even after he succeeded he wasn't sure whether to assign this success to his mediocre diplomatic skills or to his tall frame, which could have easily cowered into agreeing a guy bigger than that shorty. (Not that the Chinese looked particularly scary while tenderly holding Mark as if he was the most precious being on earth – and he was for him – but he was still impressive... probably.)

For whatever reason Donghyuck deigned to speak: Mark had been coming for water almost every night at various ungodly hours and had always looked on the verge of passing out.

"The third of forth time he came – I don't remember exactly because I was sleepy like hell – I asked him what the hell was going on."

The cashier's voice rose a note higher, indicating his annoyance, and the number of curse words in his speech doubled.

"And guess what that crazy workaholic told me! He is sneaking into their dance studio to practice extra hours! That idiot is practicing after the hellish twelve hours of regular practice he has every day! No wonder he looks like a ghost!"

Donghyuck had warned Mark multiple times about the potential dangers of exhaustion but apparently in vain – the trainee had continued coming and his appearance got worse each subsequent time.

  
After Yukhei promised to take care of Mark, the cashier almost kicked him out of the store, assuring him he would clean the mess of bottles alone.

And here was he, standing in the dark outside, with his unconscious love in his arms, brooding over the fact that he had zero ideas where to go. At 1 a.m he wasn't in the cue for dealing with idol agencies, but McDonalds was hardly an option too – Mark needed a proper bed to finally discover the meaning of the word "rest".

A loud clanking of cans broke the nightly silence. Two cats jumped out of the nearby recycling bin and grappled together, meowing angrily. It was supposed to be the breeding season...

As he waa staring intently at the cata, a solution popped in the Chinese's head. In the whole snoring city there was, after all, one person who wouldn't slam the front door in his face. Probably.

  
  


* * *

  
  


The last thing Kun expected to behold at his doorstep at such an hour was his Chinese bro with two backpacks on his shoulders, one hung on his neck, and unconscious Mark Lee in his arms. Something Yukhei wished he could _un_ witness was Kun with an embroidered apron and a frying pan in hand, his whole face smeared with flour.

"Bro..." mumbled they in unison, gaping at each other.

"Man, why are you cooking at 2 a.m?" asked Yukhei, still eyeing the other's fulltime-housewife garments.

Kun scrutinized him from had to toes and retorted, "Man, why do you look as if you've just returned from war?" before stepping aside to let him in.

After the Chinese bro shoved Brad Pitt and Chenle, who was unnecessary loud, out of the small bedroom located in the farthest corner of the minuscule flat, Yukhei laid Mark on Kun's bed, tucking him carefully in the blanket, and briefly explained the whole situation in a hushed voice. Kun – like usually – remained unfazed, suggesting they simply left the trainee to sleep as much as he needed to. However, the moment he heard that Yukhei was again subsisting on chips, his indignation and horror knew no boundaries, and the younger Chinese, who was highly reluctant to leave Mark alone even for a second, was nevertheless immediately dragged back to the kitchen to be fed with fresh pancakes.

Actually, it could hardly be called a kitchen – it was a simple plot with an oven, a table and a couple of shelves, taking a good two thirds of the small room. The remaining one third served as an improvised living room with a couch, which only by miracle fitted in and which obstructed almost the whole way to the bedroom, and a TV standing on what had once been a coffee-table.

"Why pancakes?" inquired Yukhei. "Don't you cook only healthy Chinese food?"

After hesitating for a second, he resolved to position himself on top of the kitchen table; his long legs always made sitting on chairs uncomfortable.

"N-No man-nerrrrs," croaked something on his left, causing him to jump off the table from suddenness.

Unnoticed to this moment, a large, grayish-blue parrot was sitting on a wooden perch hammered in one of the walls. Chenle, who was sprawled in front of the TV, chuckled at Yukhei's startled expression.

"Piranha Chuck, shut up!" snapped Kun, who again busied himself with the pancake mix. "I'm making pancakes because the ungrateful pig over there, on the couch, announced a hunger strike against my homemade Chinese food and hasn't eaten anything for a whole day."

Yukhei was too absorbed by the parrot, which paced back and forth, croaking, "Rrrum", to reply.

"Who named it Piranha Chuck?" asked he with a grin, looking at the bird as if it was the eighth wonder of the Ancient world.

Kun scoffed and explained that three years ago Chenle had been convinced every parrot should have a scary pirate name, and Piranha Chuck had seemed sinister enough to him.

"Capt-tain Chuck-k the Pirrrranha!" cried out the parrot, causing Yukhei to burst out laughing in amusement. _This bird was the coolest!_

Chenle gave it a proud glance from the couch.

"Anyways, you can stay," remarked Kun casually, changing the subject.

Yukhei's first reaction was to overturn a glass of orange juice with his clumsy fingers.

"W-What?"

Kun shot the table-cloth a pitiful glance, but looked away before the other boy could notice.

"What? You said you were evicted. I say that you can stay. Without paying rent. Until we get your financial situation back on track. Then, if you don't want to move out, we will split the rent."

The younger guy's eyes widened. While his college "friends" were so aloof he wouldn't dare even to call them in case of an emergency, here was Kun, who knew him for less than a week, inviting him to move in. He scratched his nape nervously, unsure what to say. He badly didn't want to live in McDonald's, but he didn't want to be a nuisance either.

"Don't you have a roommate, though?"

"Chenle doesn't count because he is leaving for China next week, so nah, not anymore," replied the other, skillfully flipping a pancake. "I used to have two of them. Don't even ask how we squeezed in this hole! They were both great guys – the one from China, the other from Japan. Yuta, the Japanese, couldn't say "Hi" in Korean, but made zero efforts to learn the language. Instead, me and Sicheng, the Chinese, had to turn our movie nights into self-teaching Japanese classes in order to somehow communicate with him! On top of that they started dating at some point, so I and Yuta switched places, and I was the one sleeping on the couch, of course, waking every day with a sore back... They were cool and it was much easier to pay the rent, but their decision to move out was a huge relief, to be honest."

Yukhei laughed and warned that he was a very messy roommate. But before he could tell the whole story about how he once washed all his white T-shirts with the black laundry, the Chinese bro made a dismissive gesture, accidentally overturning a bottle of oil.

"Don't tell me, please, or I might withdraw my offer."

The younger guy chuckled as a wave of pure happiness washed over him. From a total disaster, the day had turned into a dream: he was Mark's Knight in Shining Armor and he finally found a place where he felt welcomed.

"Thank you, Kun," said he finally, smiling at the older.

The Chinese bro simply shrugged as if trying to show that his offer wasn't such a big deal.

"Welcome home, I guess."

"All rrrascals on boarrrd!" cried out Piranha Chuck.

Kun sent the bird a murderous glance, complaining that Chenle had taught it only nonsense.

"Kun-n likes Y-Yangy-yang!" croaked the parrot unabashedly.

The Chinese bro – not ready to be cruelly slapped in the face with the truth – hurled the pancake so high it remained glued on the ceiling, much to Chenle and Yukhei's amusement. 

"So it's true, huh? You and that Yangyang-kid?" asked Yukhei with a smug grin after he stopped wheezing.

The Chinese bro waved the frying pan in protest, hiding his blush.

"It's nothing, really," stammered he. "He is just a playful kid and..."

"He is lying," remarked Chenle from the couch. "He has had a crush on him since I introduced them to each other, but Yang's a model, a real hottie, and thinks that Kun is lame."

His brother gave him a glare fiery enough to incinerate the whole room and threatened to send him back to China the next day.

"Then I will tell YangYang you collected Barbie dolls in third grade!" retorted Chenle, sticking his tongue at him.

Another pancake flew out of the pan and glued to the window-glass.

"I threw that collection away two years ago!"

"Then I will tell him how you kissed Renjun's dog on New Year's Eve!"

"Verrry cute!" cried Piranha Chuck.

Yukhei toppled to the floor stricken by a violent fit of laughter, dragging the table-cloth together with all the dishes after himself. A plate landed on Brad Pitt, who had crawled unnoticed near one of the chairs, eliciting a horrifying howl from him. Kun banged the hot frying pan straight on the plastic plot and glared first at Yukhei, then at Chenle, who was smirking victoriously, and finally at Piranha Chuck.

"Have you all conspired against me or what??"

Tiny curls of black smoke coming from under the pan were, sadly, the only answer to his question.

"Man, the plot's on fire..."

* * *

  
Waking up felt like climbing out of a deep, black hole back to the sunny world.

While staring at the unfamiliar ceiling above him and wondering how on earth did he manage to discern it was an unfamiliar one when his dorm's ceiling was just as white, Mark tried to figure out how long he had slept. It felt like centuries and he must have overslept, but the blanket was so cozily wrapped around him (He could perfectly picture his current resemblance to the Mummy of Tutankhamun.) and there was something so heavy on his chest, fastening him to the mattress, he didn't budge for a while.

Our imagination is a powerful but capricious mistress, which fills our heads with all sorts of illusions, so when the reality slaps us in the face, we are immensely shocked. As Mark finally lifted himself on his elbows, running his head against the unfamiliar metallic bed frame, he was more than surprised: what felt like a soft pillow placed at his feet was Brad Pitt lying there, snoring louder than a boar and drooling on Mark's exposed socks. The heavy thing on his chest proved to be Yukhei's head. (At least _he_ wasn't drooling.)

The trainee stared at the sleeping Chinese with wonder. He was sitting on a low stool next to the bed, his hand intertwined with Mark's and his shoulders and head rested on the trainee as if he hadn't meant to fall asleep but did.

Suddenly, the last night's events occurred to Mark, and he realized that Yukhei had probably watched over him the whole night while he was sleeping peacefully in God-knows-whose bed. He felt guilty, but blushed like a whole garden of tomatoes at the same time. How was it possible for someone to be so sweet and caring, and handsome, and strong...

"THE FORRRCE AWAKENNS!" cried something straight into his left year, and thus the _real_ morning began.

Mark – ignorant of Piranha Chuck's existence – jumped from suddenness, accidentally kicking Brad Pitt. Brad Pitt, who unjustly received a blow in his wet black nose, howled, or more precisely growled horribly, splashing saliva on Yukhei's hair. Yukhei, upon hearing Brad Pitt's melodic voice, finally opened his eyes only to see the most beautiful, adorable, perfect version of sleepy Mark with messy curly bangs and rosy cheeks, and decided it was a great idea to fondly caress his soft face with his big thumb.

"Good morning, angel," murmured he, cracking a lazy grin, and stretched his arms.

It was a good morning, indeed. Even the best. First, after Yukhei had stayed up almost till dawn, guarding Mark's peaceful sleep, Kun mercifully hadn't woken him up for work. Second, the first thing he laid his eyes on was the love of his life, who looked healthy for the first time since they met.

The trainee's cheeks, meanwhile, inflamed with the speed of dry wood. He averted his eyes from the hot Chinese, but unfortunately his gaze fell on something quite more disturbing – the clock. And it showed 10 a.m!

He jumped off the bed like thunderstruck, followed by Yukhei's confused gaze, but tripped over Brad Pitt, who was now sprawled on the floor.

While Mark was bending down to apologize to the mongrel, who was barking bloody murder, the Chinese briskly stood up and obstructed the door with his tall frame.

"What's the matter?" asked he as soon as Mark emerged in front of him, ready to elbow his way through.

"I'm late for practice! Why didn't you wake me up? Why did you switch off my phone? My managers will kill me!" exclaimed the trainee in full panic mode.

Yukhei sighed.

"I switched off your phone because you needed rest, Mark."

Mark started punching him lightly with his small fists.

"Move! You can't stop me!"

The Chinese eyed his tiny figure with a mixture of affection and amusement and gently catching his little hands to stop the soft punches, bent down to whisper, "Can't I?"

That's how Mark ended in the kitchen, munching on leftover pancakes, while the Chinese persuaded him that only Jaemin had called to say that there was a big problem with a girl group's comeback and the agency, in the whirl of professional chaos, was too busy to notice a trainee's absence.

Mark decided to believe Yukhei and dropped the matter, asking if the place was Kun's. Since he knew Mark was the understanding type, the Chinese told him everything as it was, with the eviction and Kun's offer, missing out only the fight with the landlord. He wanted to make a good impression on his love, after all.

Soon Brad Pitt reappeared triumphantly, demanding compensation for the offensive morning treatment in the form of pancakes. Mark was a generous soul, so – despite Yukhei's warnings that he would spoil the mongrel – he stepped on one of the chairs to pick another plate for the dog.

When you step on something higher than several inches, you will inevitably stagger. So did Mark.

Fortunately for him, though, Yukhei wasn't done playing the Knight in Shining Armor. As the trainee abandoned all hopes to maintain balance through violent arm motions, the Chinese dropped the jam jar he had just found in the refrigerator and rushed to catch him.

"Got ya!" exclaimed he with a proud grin as soon as Mark was safe in his arms.

The trainee's face flushed and he hastened to look away, mumbling something about always being a clumsy nuisance for Yukhei. The Chinese gently lifted his chin to look at his beautiful eyes again. He badly wanted to say that Mark was never a nuisance and he enjoyed every single small moment they shared, even the most awkward one. And he was about to say it...

Pause.

In every romantic comedy cute moments have their respective background songs.

"IS THIS LOOOVE THAT I'M FEELINGG? IS THIS THE LOOOVE THAT I'VE BEEN SEARCHINNG FOOR?"

The most inhumane, inarticulate, screeching sound echoed through the flat; it's velocity was so high Yukhei felt as if lasers were piercing his ears. To top the climax, the pile of plates Mark had tried to reach winced, tilting dangerously towards the edge of the shelve, and the uppermost one fell, whacking the Chinese on the head. His vision blackened for a second, overclouding Mark's worried face, and he could bet he heard birds chirping. Oh, did he get what seeing stars meant! There was definitely a mighty halo of them around his head.

To make the moment even more romantic, Kun barged into the kitchen with enough groceries to feed Africa's starving population. It was the perfect time for Yukhei to appreciate how the flat was so ingenuously constructed that the front door led straight to the kitchen. This created a _rarely_ private and cozy feeling. Shoutout for the designer. 

"In case you are not deaf yet, it's Chenle singing in the bathroom," remarked the Chinese bro, tactfully ignoring the two boys' weird position – Mark was still in Yukhei's arms and neither of the two (especially not Yukhei) seemed to want to change that.

"IS THIS LOOOVE..."

Chenle's vocal abilities were – to say it meekly – wanting in improvement. Yukhei wasn't in a position to complain, though. Chenle might sing like a distressed cow, but Yukhei knew he could cast him in the shade in a second because when Yukhei sang, babies wailed, airplanes crashed, and the whole neighborhood crawled under the bed.

"Chenle, stop howling like a wounded hyena!" yelled Kun the Supportive Big Brother, thus cruelly putting an end to the serenade.

Yukhei was thankful his Chinese bro was too occupied with inquiring about Mark's health and reprimanding Chenle, who arrived in the kitchen with a very offended expression, to notice the large strawberry-jam puddle on the parquet. He winked mischievously at Mark, whispering that they should get out before Kun the Meticulously Clean had spotted the trouble and made him scrub the floor till New Year.

The trainee had no other choice but to accept, wondering what surprises this walk with Yukhei had prepared for him.

Once on the street, the Chinese immediately grabbed Mark's hand in his. He hoped he had proved himself as a dependable man, who acted when needed, and he wanted to keep this image. For a sweet, blissful moment, he enjoyed the fact that Mark didn't retract his small, soft hand, and he could gently caress it with his thumb.

However, the happiness was soon spoiled by a cry ferocious enough to intimidate a whole tribe of cannibalistic aborigines on the path of war.

"WONG YUKHEEEEEEI–"

A whole flock of scared birds flew off a nearby tree. Kun had noticed the jam, and he was angry. Simple.

Yukhei hastily started dragging Mark, who meanwhile, politely trying to suppress his laughter, pitied "poor Kun-hyung", away from the block before the Chinese bro had pronounced him evicted and thrown his luggage straight out of the window.

A bus loomed at the corner, and Yukhei clutched the trainee's hand even more confidently, happy to finally show what a great, reliable decision-maker of a man he is. They were going to catch _this_ bus exactly, he was going to deliver his love safe and sound to the dorms, and nothing could stop him. Period.

And then the worst, the unpredictable happened – Mark withdrew his hand.

Yukhei stopped, not daring to turn around and look at him. His heart sank; his alleged confidence vanished into thin air; he felt as if he was falling into the darkest abyss, and indeed he was – into the abyss of complete despair. It occurred him suddenly that Mark might actually be a tolerant towards gays but nevertheless straight person. What if the Chinese had crossed the limit with this handholding? What if all Yukhei's small displays of affection disgusted him? What if Mark didn't want to have anything to do with him anymore...

"Er, Yukhei," muttered the trainee, tapping him softly on the elbow (Although he currently resembled a paralyzed-by-stress dummy, the Chinese still melted at the thought that Mark couldn't even reach his shoulder without tiptoeing.), and narrowed his eyes to observe the bus again, "that's the wrong bus. I think I know this neighborhood. Our bus must drive in the opposite direction."

The Chinese turned around with the speed of a spinning top, unable to hold back the wide grin of relief spreading on his face. He felt like a complete fool, but he was the happiest fool on planet Earth.

"Ah, yeah," murmured he, fixing his eyes on the ground, "I... I knew it!"

Mark slightly stretched his hand for him to hold, dispersing Yukhei's last doubts, and Yukhei had to muster all his self-control not to whisk him off his feet and hug him, and scream from joy.

Intertwining their hands again, his started, less confidently, in the opposite direction – there was no guarantee that he wouldn't embarrass himself again. After all he had appeared either as a complete idiot or as a clown, if not both, so far. (And to his dismay, the astrological websites said the first impression is remembered forever.)

The two boys caught the right bus without any awkward instances – mostly thanks to Mark, Yukhei had to admit – and were now fully experiencing the whole set of pleasures public transport provides: a jerky bus with a snappy driver, a horde of tourists with tons of luggage, and no air-conditioning. _Heaven._

Shielding Mark from the crowd threatening to trample him, Yukhei brought up the trainee's health again. The hardest part, as he soon realized, was to make Mark admit to himself that he was tired. The boy – as if he had practiced it in advance – kept chanting the same mantra: he ate and slept enough; his managers were right to be demanding; nobody cared about health anyways.

"Mark," said the Chinese softly, elbowing in the meantime a couple of annoying tourists, who had literally glued themselves to his back, " I care about your health. I care about you–"

The bus jerked so abruptly everybody made at least a ninety degree bow forward or backward. Mark, unable to maintain balance, faltered towards the door, but Yukhei grabbed his tiny waist on time, which brought their faces in a very close proximity. They both blushed intensely, staring at each other's eyes; the Chinese cracked an awkward smile.

"Thanks, Yukhei," muttered the trainee.

"I'm always here to catch you. And never say your health is not important. You are important to me... because–"

_I love you._

The confession was only mental, however, because before Yukhei could utter it, the bus door he had been relying on with his left hand, while securing Mark with the right, abruptly opened, and the boys gracefully scuba-dived into a deep, muddy puddle.

"I want to drown myself," deadpanned Mark wile staring at a group of school kids guffawing at them.

The two guys had been sitting in the puddle for at least five minutes already seeing no point in swimming out of it.

Yukhei guided his hand trough the dirty brown water, and, somehow finding Mark's fingers, patted them comfortingly.

"Look on the bright side of the situation," said he, smiling. "If we hadn't plunged into this swamp, we would have never known how a whale feels in a swimming pool for kids."

Mark gave him a long, puzzled look.

"Yukhei... have you _ever_ seen a whale in a swimming pool?"

The Chinese laughed.

"Not yet, but think about it: if we see such a whale in distress, we will be the only one sympathizing with him."

Why not after all? Everything is possible if Fate, suddenly overcome by caprice, makes it possible. On the most disastrous day, which started with a swollen forehead and a 6 a.m shift at McDonalds, Mark had walked into Yukhei's life. If that wasn't Fate's whimsy, then Piranha Chuck was a flamingo.

Mark shook his head, laughing at the other's reply. It was blatantly obvious to everyone that Yukhei was one of a chaotic lad, but if they,!like Mark, could peek for the tiniest bit of a second behind his goofy exterior, they would discover so much more. Yukhei's personality was Pandora's Box, but instead of evils, wonderful qualities were hidden in there: Yukhei was funny, and attentive, and strong-minded when needed...

"Yukhei, you are amazing!" exclaimed the trainee earnestly, slightly throwing his head back in another outburst of happy, silvery laughter.

Yukhei's heart skipped more beats than those of all lovers' in the history of humankind. Getting from "you are so weird" to "you are amazing" was too overwhelming of a progress!

Sudenly, although he was half-sunk in a filthy puddle, he felt like the happiest, luckiest person in the world. The sun was shining straight into his face, dazzling him. His jeans were miserably soaked. But he was sitting in that puddle with Mark, and honestly, nothing else mattered.

  
  


* * *

When one is trying to knock some sense into a friend's thick head, one is supposed to maintain one's own sense. However, Kun had been trying to make Yukhei think rationally since their shift started, and all he had achieved so far was the perception that he himself had gone insane.

"Wong Yukhei, you cannot simply invade an idol agency's dormitory. You will end in the local police station!" yelled he at his impossible Chinese bro.

At least the usual half an hour without any customers had just started, and he could finally yell – his hushed voice hadn't proved persuasive.

Yukhei only pursed his lips stubbornly, completely blocking out Kun's voice of wisdom. Yesterday everything had seemed too good to be true: he had finally dared to ask Mark for his number; they even talked in the evening, and the trainee promised him to quit practicing at night. No need to mention that the Chinese was on cloud nine.

When something seems too good be true, however, it probably _is_ too good to be true because things again went south in the blink of an eye. After a sleepless night of pondering his confession to Mark, Yukhei was dragged out of bed before dawn to help his panicked Chinese bro search for Piranha Chuck, who had disappeared. After a long, fruitless search, he arrived at work only to discover that Mark would neither come, nor answered his multiple calls.

The Chinese abruptly threw his hoodie on his shoulders and, accompanied by Kun's cries of protest, made a few long strides towards the door. From now on "Deeds not words" was the motto. He didn't care how foolish he would look; Mark's _slaveholding_ (He mentally applauded Donghyuck for that well-directed remark.) agency surely was to be blamed for his sudden disappearance, and Yukhei was going to find out what's going on. If those managers were under the illusion they would get away with it, the Chinese was determined to prove them terribly wrong. His current budget might be two dollars, and his only connection in Seoul might be Kun, who, with his pink shirts from _H &M, _definitely wouldn't pass for an influential gangster, but those manager-guys didn't have the slightest notion of what he was capable to do when it came to Mark. He had never resigned his role of the Knight in Shining Armor after all!

"Wong Yukhei, stop, you imbecile!" yelled Kun again, stomping angrily after him. "Put this small brain of yours to use for a second! What exactly do you imagine could have happened to Mark? His agency had locked him in the basement? Or maybe sold him into slavery? Or maybe, just maybe, he has obligations other than hanging out with you at McDonalds??"

Wise words were those, and a sane person had spoken them, but to no avail. Determined Yukhei was as stubborn as a mule and as hotheaded as a firebrand. When determined Yukhei saw a cemented wall, he didn't climb or circumvent it – he broke through it. When determined Yukhei walked on a railway line and a freight train was coming in his direction at full speed, the train made a bend away from the line, not Yukhei.

In this case Kun represented the freight train, so, understandably, he gave up.

"Ok, go ahead, but don't call me from the police station to complain!" shouted he throwing his hands in the air, and stomped back towards the counter.

Without slowing his pace, Yukhei snapped his head back to give the Chinese bro a final sulky, stubborn look. After he had patiently searched for Piranha Chuck alongside him, he had expected at least a tiny bit of support, but there was none of course...

The front door seemed to softly click, opening, but Yukhei was too focused on the intense, murderous eye contact with his bro to stop on time. His back collided with the newly-arrived person with full force, apparently sending that person to the floor because a yelp and a thud followed.

"Thank God!" exclaimed Kun.

Yukhei cursed mentally. What was the Chinese bro thanking God for?

While turning towards the person on the ground, he secretly hoped he had knocked him out of conscience, and they wouldn't have to immediately deal with another snappy, frustrated customer.

The wonderful thing about life is that just when you stop seeing any point in it, just when you abhor it enough to dream about drinking a jerrycan of laundry detergent and ending your miserable existence once and forever, it suddenly makes a 180-degree turn from a severe into a benevolent mistress and persuades you it is still worth living.

This time life managed to win Yukhei over again.

On the floor Mark was sitting with a rather startled expression, gently rubbing his forehead. His violently curly bangs were meticulously straightened, so the bandana was really doing something to keep them away from his face for once. Unlike his usual pastel hoodies, his today clothing was all bright red. Yukhei marveled how it was even possible to look that good in this traffic-light color. _Yeah, it isn't the clothing_ , he concluded, _it is the model who makes all the difference._

  
"Hi, Yukhei," murmured Mark with a small smile.

The purple circles of tiredness had disappeared. His beautiful face was rosy, without any trace of the previous days' unhealthy paleness.

"Mark!" was all the Chinese yelled before whisking the boy off the ground into a bone-crashing hug and spinning him around. "Why didn't answer my calls?"

"Sorry, I forgot my phone in the bathroom yesterday. Where are you going?" asked the trainee as soon as his feet regained stability and he could observe Yukhei properly.

The Chinese grinned awkwardly. He was planning to demand an explanation from the trainee, but this question took him off guard. "I was about to invade your dorm" wasn't an appropriate answer.

"Er, nowhere?" muttered he. When Mark was there, he wouldn't leave even under threats of death penalty.

Kun rolled his eyes, but the trainee smiled the sweetest smile on earth.

"Good, because I was just about to order three BigMacs in your honor."

Yukhei's eyes widened. Mark was going to eat _willingly_? Was it April Fool's Day?

While he was processing the information, his Chinese bro was forced to realize you should never thank God before you are sure everything in your life is under control.

YangYang barged trough the door with Piranha Chuck triumphantly sitting on his shoulder, and without paying the slightest attention to the two guys at the entrance, marched straight to the counter where Kun was contemplating to hide in the microwave oven.

"Hi, Kun-ge! I'm here to return Piranha Chuck. It was quite of a shock when he simply landed on my window."

Kun just grinned, or rather snarled, nervously barely mumbling a "thanks", hoping that this torture would end soon.

The model had no intention to leave, though. Instead, to Mark's wonder – he didn't get a word of Yang's excited Mandarin blabbering – and Yukhei's great amusement, he leaned on the counter with a very sly smile on his doll-like face.

"Kun-ge, do you know that your not-that-little bird told me you like me?"

"I c-came for venn-ngeance!" cried out Piranha Chuck.

Before Kun, who had turned hot-chili-sauce red, could squeak any sort of a reply, Yangyang's composed demeanor disappeared completely, and he started jumping excitedly around him bombarding him with hundreds of questions.

"Why do you like me? When did you start liking me? Why didn't you tell me yourself? I like you too! Do you want to go on a date?"

At the last question Kun almost fainted, but – to Yukhei's relief – that devilishly confident kid, YangYang, knew how to handle the situation. Grabbing his embarrassed admirer's hand without any hesitation, he announced that the two of them were going on a date, and, despite all his muffled protests, dragged him out of McDonalds leaving Mark, Yukhei, and Piranha Chuck to operate the restaurant on their own.

The moment the door closed after YangYang and Kun, Yukhei sent Mark a playful smile.

"Soo... do you know how many lunches that I wanted to treat you we've missed?"

Mark laughed, his eyes glowing mischievously. He reminded the Chinese of a little lion – fluffy and adorable but very, very dangerous when challenged.

"Let's make up for those lunches then."

The two boys shared a conspiring look, their stomaches rumbling in unison at the sinful thought of burgers and French fries.

Yukhei knew he would probably get fired for locking McDonalds in the midst of the workday to feed Mark the whole menu. Yet, he was absolutely calm and content with sitting opposite him at the their usual table, watching the trainee devour his fourth BigMac. Who knew such a tiny angel could have an appetite more ravenous than that of a whole pride of famished lions?

Between French fries and BigMacs, Mark somehow managed to answer all the questions the Chinese had flooded him with.

He had initiated a conversation with his managers, and – to Yukhei's great relief – they had proven to be understanding. Since Mark had always been very hardworking, they allowed him to take a break.

"Also, I decided to quit the nightly practices and eat more," remarked he with a small smile avoiding Yukhei's fond gaze, and stuffed another bunch of fries in his mouth. "I got up at nine today."

A tickling sensation of excitement went through the Chinese body. To hear that Mark would finally be well was all he needed to feel happy. He badly wanted to hug the boy again and never let him go.

"You have ketchup all over your face," blurted he out instead, clutching his jeans' pockets nervously.

All night had he been planning the proper confession, and the fact that this remark just summarized all the fruits of his nightly struggles was a rather discouraging realization.

Mark bursted out laughing, not the slightest bit offended, and gracefully wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his brand-new hoodie (prepared by the agency, as Yukhei had found out, for an afternoon photoshoot). The Chinese was satisfied to discover he wasn't on the side of the weaklings who use napkins.

"Oh, really? Take a look at yourself, Mustard Man!" retorted the trainee still laughing.

Yukhei contemplated wiping the mustard off with his sleeve, but restrained himself – Mark would look nice even if he cleaned his face with his socks because he was Mark, but Yukhei was a common mortal.

The trainee offered to fetch some napkins from a nearby table. Easier said than done: he was so full he barely stood up, feeling like the wolf from Red Riding Hood after he ate the grandma, and tripped immediately landing on the Chinese with the elegance of a sack stuffed with stones. Yukhei somehow managed to secure him by gripping his shoulders, and – although they looked anything but romantic – decided that either he confessed now or never.

"Er, Mark," muttered he, gently placing the boy back on his chair.

Mark gave him a questioning look and took a sip from his cup of cola.

"What is it?"

Yukhei clutched his jeans again. His palms were sweating profusely; his heart was threatening to jump out of his ribcage. He didn't remember being so stressed since his chemistry exam in eight grade when he used to think atoms were some kind of canned goods.

Nevertheless, the Korean language hadn't vanished from his memory like usually, and that was definitely a sign. Maybe this opportunity was his one and only – Fate was rarely generously inclined towards him after all.

"Mark, I have a hypothetical question..." mumbled the Chinese, hesitating.

He took a deep breath, lifting his eyes to meet Mark's encouraging ones.

"No," said he more resolutely, and took a hold of the trainee's small hand, ignoring the ketchup stains on it, "it's not _hypothetical_.

"Would you give me, a previously homeless and potentially unemployed foreigner, a... chance?" mumbled he finally with an awkward grin.

Mark's pretty eyes widened in surprise. His cheeks turned redder than the remaining ketchup flecks near his bottom lip, but he opened his mouth to reply almost immediately.

However, Yukhei waved his arms in the air to stop him from saying anything.

"Wait, wait, wait! Don't tell me!"

He grabbed a French fry from the paper plate in front of them and bit into its end.

"If you mean 'Yes', bite into the other end. If you mean 'No', take another fry and eat it," muttered he and closed his eyes tightly.

Mark blinked, curiously observing the Chinese for a while, and eventually leaned forward, but paused just an inch away from the other's face, hesitating. Not that he wasn't sure about his answer. It's just that Yukhei's antics never seized to bewilder him.

The Chinese's right foot was nervously kicking the table's metallic leg. Although he knew how awkward the situation was, he was scared to hear a straightforward "No" – it was far better to see Mark silently eat another fry.

For what felt like an eternity, nothing happened, and Yukhei slightly opened his eyes to see whether Mark had already took the fries and ran away. In that exact moment, however, the trainee finally mustered enough courage to bite into the other end of fry. There eyes met just when his lips slightly brushed against Yukhei's.

The both boys immediately jerked back, gaping at each other. More precisely, Yukhei was gaping, still unable to believe Mark had indirectly said "yes" ( _This has to be a joke, right?_ ), while the trainee was blankly staring at the Chinese's forehead, trying to process the fact that they almost kissed.

"I'm lovin' it," blurted out Yukhei after a few minutes of thoughtful silence, and hastily leaning forward, pecked Mark on the cheek.

Mark looked at him in shock, touching softly the spot he kissed, but suddenly realizing he had just cited the notorious McDonald's quotation, completely forgot about the kiss and giggled.

Yukhei too chuckled at his silly joke, but immediately bit his lip to stop. It was outright profane to ruin the delicate romantic atmosphere, so difficultly achieved and so easily destroyable.

Yet, another giggle slipped from Mark's lips, and Yukhei chuckled again too — and again, and again, and again, until the giggles and chuckles turned into uproarious guffawing.

While looking at each other, eyes tearful from laughter, neither of the two knew what on earth was so funny, but the butterflies in their stomaches had suddenly gone wild from excitement. Nothing seemed to have visibly changed – Mark was Mark and Yukhei was Yukhei – but even the air in the room felt different, magical. The sun was shining bright, and the small dust particles floating in the air were glistening, resembling pixie dust. The world was bathing in sunlight, brighter than ever, and for a moment, while studying every inch of Mark's smiling, beautiful face, the Chinese thought how amazing life is.

The two boys shared another pair of shy, sunny smiles. Piranha Chuck croaked something incomprehensible but surprisingly melodic. Maybe "love"?

Because Yukhei and Mark knew, and Piranha Chuck and Brad Pitt knew, and the sun and the green trees outside knew that this unexplainable, silly laughter was the beginning of something wonderful...

  
  


* * *

Kun finally elbowed his way through the line of infuriated, starving customers locked out of McDonald's and unlocking hastily the restaurant's door, slammed it in their faces. After those blissful hours of admiring YangYang's face, the sight his eyes were currently beholding was appallingly traumatizing.

On one of the tables, amidst hundreds of dirty paper plates, unfinished burgers, and ketchup stains, Mark and Yukhei, leaning on each other, were peacefully sleeping with intertwined hands, unaware of the hungry horde outside. Piranha Chuck was proudly perched on top of the Chinese's head, acting like the new manager in action. Thick black smoke was coming from the open microwave oven, but nobody seemed to care the tiniest bit.

Were it another man, he would have been speechless. Kun, however, maintained heroic composure and masterfully summarized the whole scene with a deep, everlasting question over which the world's greatest philosophers had once debated:

"What the hell is going on here?"

" _L-Love is a punch in the ff-face! L-Love is a punch in the ff-face..._ " croaked Piranha Chuck.

**  
  
  
The End**

**Author's Note:**

> that's it, yay :)))
> 
> i hope you enjoyed the story! if you did, please leave me a kudos and maybe a nice comment? please... pLeASe xD
> 
> any feedback would be highly appreciated.
> 
> want more lumark? check my other work – romantic! it's much, much shorter than i'm lovin' it, but it's funny too, i promise. :))
> 
> much love to you all <33


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